


Warrior Princess

by PresidentStalkeyes



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Adult Mabel Pines, Also she lives in Gravity Falls now, Attempt at Humor, Future anxiety, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Job Interviews, Mabel dropped out of college, One Shot, Stan drops an F-bomb at one point, Stan likes telling stories that don't go anywhere, The rest of the Mystery Shack crew gets mentioned, supportive stan pines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 06:42:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30051480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PresidentStalkeyes/pseuds/PresidentStalkeyes
Summary: ‘Geez, look at me. When did I turn into some gross old businesslady?’A few days after Mabel's 20th birthday, and weeks after she dropped out of college, Grunkle Stan drives her to her first job interview. A receptionist at a local woodchip recycling business, nothing too fancy. Stan tells her about his first (and only) job interview from way back. Mabel admits she doesn't know what she's doing. A pep talk is in order.
Relationships: Mabel Pines & Stan Pines
Kudos: 6





	Warrior Princess

**Author's Note:**

> Felt like doing something different for a change, and tried my hand at a more low-stakes oneshot. I hope to write more of these, possibly including a sequel to this one. All stuff focusing on the Pines and co. in the years after the show, because I have a lot of headcanons. Probably focused mostly on Dipper & Mabel as adults, but I might have some ideas for Wendy, Soos & Melody, Pacifica and the Stans, too.
> 
> Also, this story takes place in the same continuity as Mabel Turns The Time-Tables - the Mabel in this story is the same one who'd later go back in time and avert Weirdmageddon in an alternate timeline. That has no bearing on this story, though, so you don't need to have read that to read this.
> 
> Oh yeah, and in case the tags didn't tip you off, this story contains harder swearing than usual. Mabel's 20, Stan's all too happy to swear like a sailor now that she's old enough.

_‘Geez, look at me. When did I turn into some gross old businesslady?’_

Mabel’s mind was exaggerating, of course - she’d only just turned 20 a couple days ago. Yet it was a long-established tradition, ever since she turned 13; after she’d come down from her birthday party high, she’d spend a few days constantly staring at herself in any reflective surface she could find. Every so often, she’d poke herself, just to make sure the _adult_ she was looking at was really her. 

Right now, this was the side-view mirror of the Stanleymobile. The presence of her Grunkle Stan driving next to her helped put her thoughts into some perspective - he was almost 70. That was _old._ _Actual_ old. Mabel’s still a baby by comparison. Still… she was an adult. An _adult._ Not even technically-an-adult like when she’d turned 18, an actual real Adult-with-a-capital-A. In just a year’s time, she’ll be old enough to buy booze, and then she’ll have finally reached the point of no return. Heck, in Canada she’s _already_ old enough!

It didn’t help that she was wearing a suit right now. A _suit,_ of all things! Not even a colourful suit, a boring old dark grey one. The only splash of colour was the pale pinkish button-down shirt she was wearing under the jacket. That was only because she’d ‘accidentally’ put it in the wash with one of Dipper’s red shirts - she couldn’t dress completely in monochrome, that’s just _not Mabel enough!_

“‘Ey. Somethin’ botherin’ ya, pumpkin?”

Mabel snapped out of her stupor at the sound of Stan’s trademark scratchy voice - and it had only gotten scratchier over the past 7 years, he couldn’t yell as much as used to. Yet it had a disarming edge. Having an actual family after 40 years had brought out his softer side; Mabel had to smile again at the thought. He didn’t need to see her being down for no good reason.

“Nah, I’m good!” she said, putting on her best cheery tone. “Just, um… makin’ sure I look presentable and all.”

She paused to squint at herself in the side-view mirror again, making a show of inspecting her hair. Fiddling with her ponytail, brushing locks out of her eyes. “...Hmm… _kiiiinda_ wanna cut my hair short. Always wanted to see what I’d look like with short hair. _Yeah..._ floofy on the top, but no droopyness down the sides. Real… 80s warrior princess vibe, that’s what I’m thinkin’! That’d be awesome, right? That’s it, once I’m done with the interview - bibbity-butt, this hair’s gettin’ cut!”

Stan raised a brow, scratching his beard. “Uh-huh… yanno y’doin’ that thing again.”

“What thing?”

“That thing when ya make morse code with yer fingers when y’nervous. Look at ‘em.”

Sure enough, she glanced at her hands, currently clutching a leather case on her lap, her fingers unconsciously tapping away like she was sending out an S-O-S.

_Darn._

She sighed - there was no point lying to Stan, he could read her like a book that’s been opened so far that it’s split in two.

“Yeah, ya got me. Stupid nervous tics. I’ll tick _you_ good!” she said, trying to sound dramatic as she forcefully clenched one hand over another to stop herself from finger drumming.

Stan chuckled, leaning back into his seat. “Heh. Kid, ya don’t have to hide it - y’about to have yer first job interview. Of _course_ yer nervous. I’da been worried if ya _weren’t.”_

Now it was Mabel’s turn to raise a brow. “Huh? _...Why?”_

Stan went silent. He turned to gaze out the window, a sort of… glazed look in his eyes. He furrowed his brow, like he was thinking hard about something only barely there. Mabel followed his gaze - the Stanleymobile was parked, and had been still and quiet for about five minutes now. The parking lot was surprisingly empty for this time of day, but maybe that’s just because she was used to this being the mall parking lot. Since the mall closed down and the building had been bought out by Chipper Woodchip Recycling to serve as their offices in the Gravity Falls valley, the parking lot had been far too big for its needs.

The sight made her imprisoned fingers wiggle again - the parking lot, the building, _her_ \- everything seemed so _empty._

“Grunkle Stan?” Mabel spoke up, getting Stan’s attention again.

“Eh? Oh, sorry, I was tryin’ta remember _my_ first job interview - an’ also my _last,_ thank Moses. It weren’t too int’restin’, which prob’ly explains why I never mentioned it before now,” he said. Once Mabel nodded in understanding, he continued, taking her lack of an objection as permission to do so.

“One year, Pa forced Sixer an’ I to get summer jobs, ‘cause the cheapskate was too impatient to wait for us to finish high school before we started ‘earnin’ our keep’ or whatever. Since we was still workin’ on the original _Stan O’ War_ , I figured I’d get a job down at the docks - they were hirin’ stevedores, so I-”

“What’s a Stevey Door?” Mabel cut in.

“Oh, it’s uh… basically someone who loads an’ unloads cargo from a boat.”

 _“Ohhhhhhh…_ why’d they call it that? Was Stevey Door a person? Was he, like, the _king_ of cargo?” Mabel asked, allowing herself to perk up. Already she was imagining a giant muscle-man picking up those steel shipping containers and caber-tossing them across the docks with his bare hands. That’d be so _awesome._

“I dunno what you’re thinkin’ of, but it ain’t _half_ as int’restin’ as that,” Stan said without missing a beat, like he was reading her mind. “Anyway, the interview. Things were done diff’rent back then - didn’t need to submit a resumé or nothin’, I just walked into the office an’ asked fer a job. The guy took one look at me, asked if I did any sports - told him I boxed, which he liked, ‘cause o’ ‘course he did. Then he took me out back an’ told me to load a dozen barrels o’ sand onto some half-assed raft in five minutes or less. The trick was to be patient, an’ stick ‘em facin’ _vertical,_ not horizontal, otherwise they’d roll into the sea. Pulled it off with thirty seconds to spare, an’ I had the biggest shit-eatin’ grin on my face the whole time!”

 _“Cool!”_ Mabel said, as she and Stan pulled off near-identical grins - probably much like the one Stan had back then. “So did ya get the job?”

“I _did,_ if ya can imagine that. Turned out I was pretty damn good at it, too. I always showed up ten minutes late, but it didn’t matter ‘cause I’d always do ev’rythin’ twice as fast as the older guys. Prob’ly so I’d have more time to goof off once I was done. ...Huh, I can see where Wendy got it now…” Stan considered, briefly glancing off at the woods in the distance.

“...That kinda backfired on me, though,” he continued, “‘cause then they’d just make me do ev’ryone else’s job _for_ ‘em - they figured I was the dumb new kid who didn’t know any better. So I thought ‘I’ll show ‘em!’, an’ started workin’ _slow_ on purpose instead. Took almost the whole summer for my boss to figure out what I was doin’, an’ he was _pissed._ Then I mouthed off to him about givin’ me a raise if he wanted me to do the work o’ three guys twice my age. He _didn’t_ appreciate my management advice, an’ gave me the pink slip. So I walked outta there, but not before, ah, ‘compensatin’ myself’ with a crate’a military surplus shammies, a metal detector an’ a tuna sandwich. Thus ends the story o’ the first an’ _only_ honest job I ever worked.”

“What, runnin’ the Mystery Shack doesn’t count?” Mabel said, immediately.

Stan put on his most dumbfounded expression possible. “Mabel. Sweetheart. Let’s not pretend. I sat on a throne o’ _lies.”_

“Ehhh… uhh…” Mabel spluttered, with a finger raised, but couldn’t follow it up. “...Fair point.”

She raised a brow again - it didn’t take long for her to mentally backtrack to two minutes ago when Stan said she was nervous - which she _was,_ no matter how much she tried to deny it - and then said he’d have been worried if she wasn’t. That story didn’t really match up, though… from the sounds of it, Stan was anything _but_ nervous when he took that job as Stevey Door’s apprentice.

 _“Sooooo…_ I guess there’s a lesson in there somewhere?” she said, making it clear she wasn’t sure of what she herself was saying.

“Eh… not really,” Stan admitted, shrugging. “I just like tellin’ stories.”

Mabel couldn’t help but laugh at that. “HA! Grunkle Stan, you _scamp!”_ she said, giving him an affectionate shove on the shoulder. Stan chuckled right back.

“Heh… well, now that I think about it, I _was_ pretty nervous. It’s _normal,_ is what I was tryin’ta get at. I just knew not to show it, yanno. Back in those days, it was a skill Jersey guys like me were taught since birth. _But…_ I dunno, ya probably shouldn’t put too much stock in whatever crappy advice I give ya. It prob’ly ain’t applicable these days.”

“‘Crappy advice’?” Mabel gasped, emphatically shaking her head. “Nuh-uh! Total _bupkis,_ I tell you! We _appreciate_ the wisdom of Stanley Pines!”

“Nah, I’m bein’ serious. That was the only job interview I ever had, an’ I never interviewed anyone else at the Shack, neither. I gave Soos a job ‘cause the kid was _there;_ if he weren’t cut out fer it after all, I’da fired ‘im, but he _was._ Same deal with Wendy. Heard her complainin’ to her friend, that girl with the pink hair, about goin’ to loggin’ camp that summer; then the gift shop got busy an’ I ‘randomly’ picked her outta the crowd to run the counter while Soos went out back and threw up - there was a bug goin’ ‘round that month. That’s always been my method - you can do the job, an’ yer not a literal psycho-killer or anythin’, yer in.”

Stan paused again to slouch in his seat, taking a moment to check his watch. “...But o’ course, I ain’t ever claimed to be an orthodox business owner. These Chipper Woodchip goons, they’re no half-assed Oregon tourist trap, they’re a big business, with ‘company benefits’ an’ ‘retirement plans’ an’ all that shit. Didn’t ya need to fill out a ‘tell me yer entire freakin’ life story’ form just to get an interview?”

Mabel nodded. “Yeah, pretty much. Ugh, I _wish_ it was as easy as your interview,” she stopped to sign again, slouching just like Stan. 

“...I don’t even know what I’m _doing_ here.”

Stan blinked.

“...Y’about to have a job interview, is what ya doin’. Ain’t we just been over that?”

Mabel chuckled again. “Heh, walked _right_ into that one. I-I mean like… I _dropped out of college,_ Grunkle Stan. Wh-what if that just… what if I made the wrong decision? Like, I know I felt like I’d made the wrong decision goin’ to college in the first place, or at least takin’ _that_ course, an’ it seemed like a waste of money, but… it’s better than nothin’, right? What if I go in there an’ they just write me off ‘cause I’m a college dropout? O-or what if they see my pink shirt, or my birthday tattoo, or-”

“I’mma stop ya right there,” Stan cut in, holding up a hand. “C’mon, I’ve told ya this a million times. I dropped out of _high school,_ an’ I turned out just fine. These things don’t need to dictate yer entire life, no matter who says so.”

“B-but you didn’t have a choice! I did! I-I had a chance an’ I threw it away, ‘cause it didn’t ‘feel’ right!” Mabel cried, now feeling a sting in her face. “A-and now I… what if I don’t like this job? Like, even if I somehow get it, it’s not what I thought I’d be doin’, yanno? Like, a receptionist? I-I mean, I get that all jobs are valuable an’ all, an’ I’d rather work for a recyclin’ company than some gas-fartin’ industry - I-I mean, if Pacifica invested in ‘em, they gotta be good, right? But like… what if I don’t like it, but I can’t get another job? O-or what if I just _can’t_ get a job, _period?_ I shoulda told Dipper or Grunkle Ford I was thinkin’ of droppin’ out, they woulda talked me out of it! _URGH,_ I’m so _stupid!”_

Mabel’s eyes slammed shut as she clutched her head tight. By now, she was on the verge of tears. _‘Why must I be like this?’_ She thought to herself. _‘Why do I always have to cry over the stupidest things? Grunkle Stan’s gone through five-bazillion times as much as me, I’ve got no right to cry in front of him! I’m supposed to be a grown-up now!’_

“Mabel, are you cryin’?”

“No! No, I’m _not!”_ she screamed into her hands, already sniffling. “I-I just… I think I’ve got pollen in my eyes!”

Stan sharply inhaled, and Mabel felt his hand gently rubbing her on the shoulder, working its way past the oversized shoulderpads of her suit. “Heh, spoken just like me…”

Hearing Stan’s voice go all soft again, Mabel took it as permission to slide into the crook of his arm and bury her face in his chest.

“Uh… yeah, that’s it…” Stan said, uncertainly, “just, uh… let it all out.”

“I-I’m not _ready_ for this, Grunkle Stan,” she struggled to say, her voice muffled and spluttery from the lump in her throat. “Wh-why’s it all happenin’ so fast? Where did all the time go?! I coulda sworn I left it right here, but it’s _gone!_ All gone, bye-bye, see ya!”

By now, Mabel had begun to lose track of time - they’d arrived in the parking lot about fifteen minutes early, but for all she knew they’d been there for hours. It certainly _felt_ like hours as she allowed herself to weep, creating a damp patch in Stan’s old-man aloha shirt. He slung an arm around her and brought her in tighter.

“I’m sorry…” she finally said, after far too long.

“Wha? Why y’apologizin’ to _me?”_ Stan answered, incredulously.

“It’s just…” she stopped to release herself from Stan’s arms and try to sit up straight like the adult she’s supposed to be, wiping her face clean of tears and snot. “I’m 20 years old now. I’m wearing a _suit._ I’m supposed to be an _adult._ An’ I’m cryin’ into your arms like a big baby. Ya must think I’m stupid.”

Stan’s expression hardened.

“Mabel, listen to me. You are _not_ stupid.”

“But I _am._ Ev’ryone told me I shoulda figured ev’rythin’ out by now! I-it seemed so obvious, like… go to college, get a good job, bam, easy! Droppin’ out weren’t s’posed to come into it - why couldn’t I handle it? I was stupid, I wasn’t good enough!”

“Oh, _fuck that!”_ Stan blurted out, slapping a hand on the dashboard, “whoever told ya that don’t know what the hell they’re talkin’ about! Life’s unpredictable, ya can’t plan for ev’rythin’! Just look at Sixer - he had ev’rythin’ planned to a _tee_ when he moved here, did he plan for my dumb ass to come an’ knock ‘im into a portal? ‘Course not. Didn’t stop ‘im, did it? An’ look at you an’ yer brother - seven years ago, y’were only plannin’ fer a quiet summer away from the folks, not dealin’ with the _apocalypse._ A measly job interview is _nothin’_ compared to some o’ the shit you’ve dealt with before! Yer a tough cookie, don’t forget that!”

Mabel swallowed, allowing herself to relax a little at his words. After a pause, he softened his expression. 

“An’ as fer bein’ an adult now, that don’t change a damn thing. Remember what I told ya before? Just ‘cause yer growin’ old, don’t mean ya have to _grow up._ ‘Specially if ‘growin’ up’ means cannin’ all those bad feelin’s just ‘cause you feel like yer a ‘burden’ - I’m an emotionally-repressed jackass an’ even _I_ know that’s a bad idea. Besides…” he smiled, again gently placing a hand on her shoulder, “ya may be bigger now, an’ wearin’ a suit, but you’ll always be that li’l candy-fuelled gremlin to me, pumpkin. Don’t even _try_ to be anythin’ but yerself around me, I can see right through ya,” he said, lifting his hand and making an ‘eyes on you’ gesture.

Mabel sniffled again - blegh, she was _not_ gonna look presentable like this, buuut… eh, whatever. She remembered reading that employers make a decision about potential hires five seconds after first seeing them, and did she really wanna work for someone who couldn’t handle a sad face?

Come to think of it, that was basically _her_ when she was a boss, wasn’t it? When she was _12._ She slapped a palm over her face, smiling at her own goof-up. How the heck could she forget about that? She’d gotten so caught up in her own dumb anxiety that she’d completely forgotten to, ya know, prepare for the interview. They’d love that story - it was _technically_ work experience, right? They are always saying you need experience, even if it's your first job. Where else was she supposed to get it, the experience fairy?

“Heh… thanks, Grunkle Stan. Oh my _gosh,_ I totally forgot about that time I ran the Shack! When I made that dumb bet with you, remember? I even wore shoulderpads just like _theeeese!”_ she said, squirming and letting her shoulders rock back and forth to emphasize them. “I know what story _I’m_ gonna tell when I get in there!”

Stan gave a refreshingly familiar grin, shooting the finger-gun at his great-niece. “Theeere we go, ya still bounce back just as quick as always. That’s one thing I don’t _ever_ wanna see go away. Lord knows I coulda avoided a lotta trouble if I bounced back as fast as you.”

He stopped to check his watch again, and his eyes widened in alarm. “Oy, the interview’s in less than five minutes. S’pose ya’d better get goin’... ya still nervous?”

Mabel undid her seatbelt and sat back up, clearing the last remains of her gross tears and snot and readjusting her jacket. “Yeah, I am. But… I was overthinkin’ things. I should just get in there an’ do what you did!”

“What, steal a tuna sandwich?”

“Pfff, no! Well… _maybe!_ Depends on how it goes!” she said, putting on her best grin again, once more making a conscious effort to mirror her Grunkle’s cocky expressions. So she may not get the job, whatever, but she’d be _darned_ if she wasn’t gonna make a show of herself while she was there. She’s still Mabel-flippin’-Pines, regardless of how old she is, how tall she is, or what she’s wearing. She could have shown up in a full-body hazmat suit and she’d still make them know who she is.

“Well, tell ya what. Once yer done in there, I’ll take you to the barber’s- or hairdresser’s, or whatever- an’ you can get that ‘warrior princess’ cut you wanted. On me. Consider it a birthday bonus.”

Somehow, Mabel’s grin grew even bigger, and that was before her jaw dropped. “Really?! Awww, _thank you, thank you, thank you!”_ she almost squealed, once again lunging in to give him one of her trademark hugs.

 _“Oof!”_ Stan grunted. “Oy, I will _never_ get used to yer freakishly strong sumo wrestler hugs…” he squeaked out - Mabel gently releasing him once she heard a tiny ‘pop’; always the first sign she was overdoing it. She apologetically shrugged, as if to say ‘what can ya do?’

“Aw, shit,” Stan said as he stretched, setting his bones back into place, “shoulda brought one o’ yer stickerbooks, I’da given ya one o’ those… like, I dunno, there a sticker with a bee on it, that says ‘bee the best’? Or maybe ‘bee the boss’ an’ the bee’s wearin’ a suit?”

Mabel laughed as she opened the door and stepped outside, clutching her case below her arm. ...Maybe she could go into sticker design, and hire Stan as a creative consultant? 

“Ha, I wish! It’s okay, though. It’s official, I’m a warrior princess now!”

Stan chuckled, giving her a thumbs-up. “Well, knock ‘em dead for me, princess.”

 _“Warrior_ princess,” Mabel corrected him with a point, “I know I can’t grow up _too_ much, but I think even _I’m_ too old for the whole ‘princess’ thing.”

“Eh, fair enough.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sidenote: since Mabel mentioned that Stan is 'almost 70', I believe that Stan in the show was 60 at the absolute oldest (though he was more likely in his late 50s, based on that flashback in Boyz Crazy where he was a teenager in the 1970s, or at least he looked like he did as a teen in later episodes). His comment that he was 'pushing 70' was an exaggeration, though of course seven years on he actually IS pushing 70. I've put way too much thought into this. :V


End file.
